


RL's a Bitch

by Nikkie2010



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: general nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14788616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikkie2010/pseuds/Nikkie2010
Summary: One-shot: Some chitchat between a cool Prowl and a petulant Jazz - hobbies can be frustrating, but not as much as RL.





	RL's a Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah - I've been promising updates and honestly RL has been messing with my update schedule big time. But I'm still writing, still moving forward one word at a time...it won't be long now...

_Location: The Ark, Earth._

_Earth year: 2018_

_Thunk!_

Prowl glanced up from his console, optic ridges arched high as his fingers hesitated above the keypad. Doorwings perked up as he stared at the black and white mech slumped over his desk.

“Do you require a medic?” Prowl turned back to his console and resumed typing. He was used to Jazz’s odd behavioral discrepancies. No doubt the reason for his current display was some perceived wrong or disappointment. Perhaps even one of the reports Prowl had sent back to him with the request to one, remove the ‘doodles’ as he called them, two, correct his grammatical structures, and three, write a proper report consisting of more than five sentences.

A groan was the only verbal answer he received.

“If you require my input you will have to communicate in a language we both understand. If you require someone to understand odd sounds, please consult with Warpath.” Prowl added the last touches to his report and sent it through to Ultra Magnus.

Another grown accompanied by a rude human gesture was the only answer Prowl received. Not that it bothered Prowl. When Jazz was ready to ‘spill the beans’ as they say, Prowl would give him his full attention. The mech could sulk on his own.

After a few breems – roughly one earth hour – his black and white mate straightened in his chair. He picked up a single datapad, holding it between his index digit and thumb. “It’s horrible.”

Prowl finished the sentence then sat back in his chair, turning his full attention to the pouting mech. This was part of ‘small talk’ and according to Jazz, a vital part of making any relationship work. So Prowl indulged him. “What is so horrible?”

“Nothing!”

Prowl cocked an optic ridge. _Nothing?_ He swallowed and cleared his vocalizer. “You are upset over nothing?” He steepled his fingers.

“No, not nothing as in I’m upset over nothing. Nothing as in there’s nothing.”

Optic ridges knitting together and processor spinning, Prowl studied the offensive datapad held by Jazz. “Your datapad malfunctioned? I have a spare…”

“No! It’s fine.” Jazz slapped it down dramatically, placing an elbow on the table and propping his helm on it. He stared into the distance, forlorn.

Prowl blinked at him, debating returning to his work or if Jazz would find that action offensive. He dropped his optics to his console. He had already finished the orn’s, uh, day’s work and he could afford to indulge timewise in Jazz’s little game of ‘figure out what the problem is’. Sending a command to the console to hibernate, he resigned to the little game.

“The datapad has offended you because of ‘nothing’. Please clarify your dilemma.” Prowl settled his doorwings in an open, inviting position.

“I’ve been browsing the sites daily. Nothing. Not a peep. They simply – _poof! –_ vanished.” A hand waved dramatically before slumping on the desk again.

“Vanished? They?” _Homo Sapiens?_ Prowl lifted his chin. “If someone has disappeared, Jazz, this is a serious situation and the authorities should be notified immediately. How long have they been missing?” Prowl drew a datapad closer, ready to take down information. They will need to determine if there was Decepticon involvement. It wouldn’t be beyond their diabolical methodology to use the local earthlings to antagonize the Autobot forces.

“Nah it’s not that kinda vanish.” Jazz sighed and pushed himself back to a proper seated position, although, Prowl observed, his shoulders were still slumped further and he sported an overdramatic pout.

“Alright.” Prowl pushed his datapad back to its resting spot next to his right hand. “Then what kind of ‘vanish’ are we talking about?”

“The RL vanish type.” Jazz mumbled, looking down at his intertwined digits.

Prowl lifted a hand to his helm, massaging it and counting to ten. He had mastered patience vorns ago, but this nonsensical ‘chitchat’ was honestly wearing the remnants of his patience thin. “Jazz, as much as I would love to continue talking with you, I do not understand the context of your tantrum neither your references to concepts such as ‘nothing’, ‘vanish’ and ‘RL’, simply that they are somehow linked to your current petulant mood.”

“It ain’t a tantrum!” Jazz fired back, glaring at his mate.

Prowl dropped his hand to the desk and lowered Jazz with one of his infamous stares.

“Ok, fine. Maybe a bit.” Jazz threw his hands into the air, waving like a maniac. “But I’ve got good reason to! It’s been months since an update! After they promised an update in the ‘not too distant future’! Pfft. Never thought they were talking Cybertronian time! And then when you ask them what gives, all they say is RL’s a bitch!”

Jazz threw himself back in this chair, crossing his arms over his chassis.

Prowl stared at him, invisible cognitive wheels turning in his processor. “RL is a female specimen of the canine species?” That made no sense whatsoever.

“Primus give me strength.” Jazz thunked his helm on the back of his seat as he rolled his optics. “No, Prowl. It’s a metaphor. And RL stand for ‘Real Life’. As in their actual day-to-day activities like work or social. It means that no matter their good intent to write, something always happens to snag that time from them. It’s like when we plan a date. Something always happens, like ol’ Bucket Head decides on his latest Weapon of Mass Destruction©, or the Twins pull a prank, or Red gets a meltdown…Inferno plays with fire…Hound gets stuck in the mud…OP gets a call from Elita…the minis get into a brawl….”

Prowl blinked, ignoring the many reasons Jazz listed that interrupted their infrequent planned quality time and focused on deciphering the spark of the issue. He held his hand up and Jazz stopped his tirade, looking at him through a brightly shining, expectant visor. “Jazz, are you perhaps referring to your interest in pieces of fictional writing created by amateur writers and posted on the Internet for the enjoyment of ‘fans’ from different genres?”

“Fan fiction, Prowl. Keep is simple. And yeah. Not a peep form the stories I’m following. Oh it’s not that there’s nothing, simply that _some_ authors aren’t updating! And I’m dying to know what happens next! It’s like they’re teasing me! Holding out a tasty morsel but never letting me have it! My processor drives me crazy with 'what happens next'!” Another _Thunk!_ As the black helm collided with the smooth surface of the desk. Mumbled groans that Prowl deciphered as curses accompanied by ‘How dare they leave me like this’ emanated from the despondent saboteur.

Prowl vented and sent the order for his console to wake up again. Fifty-six new messages popped up – all labeled as urgent. Most of them came from Red Alert. Shifting the ‘chitchat’ to the back of his processor, Prowl accessed the first message. “Perhaps Jazz, RL really is a bitch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written during my tea-break. Not checked for spelling or grammar errors. If you spot any - let me know. Also, this is probably the shortest thing I've ever written! :D


End file.
